


A New and Glorious Morn

by MissJeeves



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, Impregnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-23
Updated: 2011-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-15 00:58:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissJeeves/pseuds/MissJeeves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teyla decides she wants a baby with an Ancient gene, fucks John to get it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New and Glorious Morn

The mission to Ashmaru goes poorly. It has been visited by the Wraith, maybe only days before Teyla’s team arrives. Not just culled, but completely destroyed. No one left alive.

Only Ronon, Teyla thinks, understands how she feels, looking out over the obliterated village. John and Rodney feel empathy, certainly, but it does not kick at their hearts. They cannot feel it the way she does; Pegasus is not their galaxy.

She looks at Ronon, who has schooled his face into blankness. She does the same, following John as they do a quick and ultimately fruitless search for survivors.

They step over the bodies of the fallen defense: men armed with bows and arrows.

The ‘jumper trip back is quiet. Often Rodney will fill awkward silences with meaningless conversation and imaginary complaints. Tonight, he is mute and looks sad.

Teyla asks him a question she suspect he can’t answer, mostly to break the silence.

“Rodney, can you explain why so few Pegasus peoples possess the Ancient gene?” she asks.

Ronon shoots her a dirty look; he likes it when Rodney is quiet. In the pilot’s seat, John makes a low, incomprehensible noise. If he knows why she is asking, he doesn’t comment. He also doesn’t interrupt Rodney’s answers, which are mostly guessing and do indeed last until they return to Atlantis.

She spars with Ronon that evening, reciprocating his ferocity. He is as angry as she is, for the same reason. It accomplishes nothing for either, of course, but bruises for her and a bloody nose for him.

Teyla lies next to him on the mat while he sits and waits for the nosebleed to stop.

“Do you ever wonder why the Ancestors did not leave their gifts in this galaxy?” She asks him.

“You mean their stuff?” Ronon answers, spitting blood out the side of his mouth.

“The ability to use it,” she corrects. “The gene.”

“No,” Ronon says, after a second.

“So many are helpless against the Wraith,” she presses. “Fighting with stones.”

“Stones hurt,” Ronon says, completely seriously.

She understands what he means, but Teyla doesn’t think he understands her.

“You do not feel betrayed,” she says, finally.

“Sateda didn’t worship the Ancestors,” he reminds her. “And we did okay without their stuff.” He trails off curtly, because that isn’t entirely true.

“I do,” Teyla says. So deeply she wishes she could strike out at the Ancestors, leave them bleeding on the mats.

Ronon prefers to direct his rage at the Wraith, at an actual enemy he can fight and one he can kill. Teyla wishes she do the same.

She walks with him to a transporter, suggesting he visit the infirmary if he keeps bleeding. Teyla knows he probably won’t, wishes she hadn’t hit him that hard.

Next, she checks on Torren. He’s sleeping, of course, peaceful and undisturbed. Seeing him doesn’t calm her, though. She thinks of her sweet son and the red, powerless blood running through his tiny arms and legs. Torren will grow up in Atlantis, in the cradle of the Ancestors, but he will never touch it the way John can. Even the treatment that gave Rodney the ability does not work every time.

She wishes she could have given him that touch.

After Torren’s birth, Dr. Keller had delivered an awkward lecture on reproduction and contraceptives, apparently believing that Athosians did not fully understand where little Athosians came from. Among the random supplies Jennifer had provided her were tests not only for pregnancy but for ovulation.

Teyla’s own suspicions are correct, though she feels silly urinating in a cup and then inserting a stick into it. Her body is fertile this week.

She visits John in the evening three days later, when Jennifer’s literature suggests she will be most successful.

“Hey, Teyla,” John says, when she slips inside his quarters uninvited. “What’s up?”

He knows what she is here for. Otherwise, she would have remained outside and spoken to him in the doorway.

Silently, Teyla starts disrobing at the foot of his bed. John sits up, dropping his magazine.

“Oh,” he says, with an appreciate smile.

He watches her strip, until she is naked before him.

“You are still dressed,” she complains.

“Sorry.” He immediately lifts his shirt up and off. “I was distracted by the view,” he says, shirt fabric over his face. She reaches for his pants, playfully running her fingers over his erection.

He’s naked, too, after that.

They kiss for a little bit, Teyla letting him pin her to the bed and caress her up and down. Then, she gently shifts so that he is on his back and she is ready to straddle him. They do not always have intercourse and John often finishes outside her body. At first, it was because he felt uncertain about the propriety of this after Torren’s birth, but she convinced him that was unwarranted. Teyla enjoys all sorts of sex with him, but tonight is different.

John is pawing at his bedside drawer, reaching for condoms. Immediately, she captures his hands and draws them back. She kisses him deeply, distracting him while she lowers her sex on to him.

He forgets about the condoms, which is her intent.

They move together intimately, slowly but increasingly harder. Teyla digs her nails into his shoulders, mouths down towards his chest. She remembers not to leave marks above his collar, settles with finding a nipple in his chest hair and pinching it between her lips.

John groans and pistons faster, slamming into her. He reaches between their bodies, one hand groping her breasts, the other pressing right above where he enters her.

Hot sparks travel from Teyla’s breasts to her belly. She is close, and so is he. He pushes her up from the curl she’s in, wanting better access to her body, so she puts her hands on his shoulders and rides him.

He holds her waist with one hand, the other traveling from her nipples to between her legs with practiced skill.

Teyla does not orgasm until he does, until she feels the hotness of his seed spill inside her. Then, she collapses on top of him, face in his chest hair. She keeps him inside her body ‘til he slips free. She can feel fluid dripping out, his precious semen leaking out of her folds.

Finally, she rolls off of him onto her back. She places one hand on her belly, imagines nature taking its course within her. A child with the power of the Ancestors, in the galaxy where it belongs.

“Thank you, John,” she whispers, to the man already dozing at her side.


End file.
